


Too Much to Lose

by stephaniereads



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Health Issues, It's just sad overall so be warned, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Sick Character, Very mushy and emotional, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:29:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7220545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephaniereads/pseuds/stephaniereads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“For that, just go out shirtless.”</p><p>“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”</p><p>“’Course I would, but I’d want you all to myself.”</p><p>“You do have me all to yourself, silly,” Harry laughs, pecking Zayn on the cheek from behind him.</p><p> ~<br/><em>Harry and Zayn fall in love in a story based on "Terrible Things" by Mayday Parade.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much to Lose

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still scene in 2016 and I was listening to the song and it struck me that I needed to write the sad story I've been wanting to write for a while (title's from the song). I haven't written a lot of Zarry so be gentle lmao I tried and I appreciate any and everyone who takes some time out to read this. 
> 
> Writing/posting this isn't meant to make light or romanticize any situation like this which is mostly why I don't identify the disease by name.
> 
> ~
> 
> Here's some songs to listen to throughout:  
>  **Terrible Things** \- Mayday Parade  
>  **All of the Stars** \- Ed Sheeran  
>  **Moondust** \- Jaymes Young  
>  **Never Let Me Go** \- Florence and the Machine  
>  **Settle Down** \- Gentle Bones  
>  **Every Moment** \- Dead Times  
>  **Stay** \- Rihanna  
>  **Latch** (acoustic)- Sam Smith  
>  ~~~

The bar closes by 4 am, but Zayn always stays till at least 4:30. Liam ran the bar, so he never says anything, actually quite enjoys his good friend’s company considering sometimes he actually helps him close up.

“Meet anyone interesting tonight?” Liam asks, nodding at Zayn as he takes a final swig from his beer.

Zayn shrugs, shakes his head. “Not tonight. Did see a fit one though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, real cute… curly hair, covered in tattoos.”

“And you sat here quiet like always,” Liam assumes, shaking his head at Zayn.

He’s not wrong though, Zayn knows he isn’t. It’s just that Zayn’s shy and would rather people come up to him, but even then he finds himself feeling awkward. Liam frowns when Zayn stays silent, his brow furrowing as he trails his fingers over a dent in the wooden surface of the bar.

“I was only joking, mate. Who knows, maybe you’ll see him again.”

“Yeah, I know,” Zayn sighs, climbing off his barstool and stretching. “I think m’gonna head home. I’ll see you.”

“See ya, Z. Get home safe.”

“You, too.”

Zayn thinks of the man in the bar that night, of all the men in all the bars that he never spoke to. He hopes that Liam is right, that he’ll see the man again. Zayn promises himself that if he does, he’ll speak to him.

~

He sees him. It’s a Friday night and the place is packed, bodies everywhere, people drinking and laughing and dancing, but Zayn sees him and he sees Zayn.

Their eyes meet from across the bar, like something straight out of a corny movie. The curly haired man lopes towards the bar where Zayn sits, a glass in his hand and a smile playing at his lips.

“Hi.”

Zayn can only stare for a moment before he realizes the word is directed at him.

“Hey… uh hi. I’m Zayn.”

The man licks his lips and extends his hand, voice raised for Zayn to hear over the music.

“I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“Excuse me?” Zayn’s eyebrows raise and he offers a confused look, his voice defensive.

Harry giggles and shoves gently at Zayn’s knees, pushing his way in between Zayn’s legs and settling there, holding his drink away to avoid spilling it. It makes Zayn nervous, but he likes it, the feeling of this stranger between his legs, how warmth radiates from his body onto Zayn’s.

“M’just teasing… but I saw you the other night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, saw you looking at me.”

“Guess I can’t pretend that I wasn’t then, huh.”

Harry smiles at that and Zayn notices the dimples carved into his cheeks. “Nope. You’re caught, Zayn.”

“What are you gonna do then, Harry?”

Harry leans down to whisper into Zayn’s ear, his mouth so close to Zayn’s skin that Harry’s tongue just barely touches him. “Whatever you want me to do, babe.”

~

Harry ends up at Zayn’s apartment just a couple of blocks away from the bar. Zayn’s sober and Harry’s not quite drunk, but maybe just a little tipsy and Zayn can taste the alcohol in his mouth when he kisses him. Zayn takes note that Harry likes fruity drinks and wonders if Harry can taste the cigarettes and cherry gum and beer when they kiss.

Zayn guides Harry to the bedroom and they end up against the wall, Zayn biting at the column of Harry’s neck while Harry pulls at Zayn’s jeans till they hang low on his hips.

Zayn pushes his hips into Harry’s and he hisses at the contact, the bulge of his dick pressing against Harry’s. He pushes Harry’s shirt off his shoulders once he’s undone the buttons along the front of it, the printed fabric falling into a puddle behind Harry. 

Zayn explores Harry’s torso with his mouth, mouths at the bird on his chest, traces the laurels on his hips with his finger. Harry leans into Zayn’s touch, lets little whimpers escape his lips when Zayn sucks especially hard on his neck.

Their impatience gets the best of them though and Zayn would like to take it slower, but Harry’s pink lips and curly hair and sweaty skin are all too much right now. Zayn only leaves him to get lube and a condom, holding them both between his teeth while he yanks at Harry’s jeans.

Zayn rubs Harry’s erection through his underwear, drops to his knees and mouths at him sweetly, gazing up to gouge Harry’s reaction as he does. Harry pulls him back to his feet though, kisses Zayn hard and slots their thighs together.

“Can’t wait,” Harry says under his breath, his forehead against Zayn’s. “Need you.”

Zayn obeys and guides Harry to turn and face the wall, dropping to his knees again. He bites gently at Harry’s neck, glides his fingers down Harry’s spine. He squirts some lube onto two appendages and slowly inserts his index and middle finger inside Harry. Harry bites back a groan, his fingers curling and scraping against Zayn’s bedroom wall as Zayn moves his fingers into Harry, opening him up. 

Harry curses under his breath and Zayn smiles into his neck, urging Harry to be patient. He doesn’t make Harry wait much longer though, only teases him for a moment before slipping the condom over his dick and pushing into Harry.

Harry’s body relaxes upon Zayn’s entrance and Zayn hisses as he slides into Harry. Harry bites his lip, fucks back against Zayn, and smiles.

“S’big,” Harry mutters and Zayn can do nothing but laugh breathlessly against Harry’s neck.

Zayn reaches around Harry and wraps his hand around Harry’s dick, fisting him as he pumps into Harry, biting and kissing at his shoulders.

“Harder,” Harry begs and with that voice, that sweet, raspy, Zayn feels the need to oblige him, to do whatever Harry wants him to do to make him feel good.

So he fucks him relentlessly, Harry crying out and biting down on his fist to keep from getting too loud. Harry warns Zayn that he’s going to cum and he does shortly after, little spurts of white spilling over Zayn’s curled fingers, some of it landing on Harry’s toned stomach.

Zayn pulls out of Harry and steps back, breathing against Harry’s shoulder. They stay like that for a minute as Harry gathers his breath back, turning on his heel suddenly to push Zayn to the bed.

Harry drops to his knees and grabs Zayn’s cock in his hand, thumbing the tip. “You don’t mind, right?”

“’Course not,” Zayn breathes, watching as Harry licks from the base of Zayn’s dick to the head, swirling his tongue over the tip before taking him in his mouth.

Harry’s good, so fucking good, and just watching him drives Zayn mad. He already feels the familiar tension in his thighs and stomach as Harry sucks him, his mouth making a wet pop when he pulls off for a moment to spit on him once, rub his curled fist over Zayn.

“Harry… I’m- _fuck_.”

Zayn braces himself against the bed, holding the back of Harry’s head and forcing him to take him deeper. Harry’s eyes water and he gags softly, sending Zayn over the edge. Harry catches every last drop of Zayn in his mouth and swallows, his eyes never breaking from Zayn’s gaze.

Harry turns around and rests on the floor, his back leaning against Zayn’s bed, Zayn’s legs hanging over Harry’s shoulders. Zayn lights a smoke and Harry breathes in the smell of it mixed with sex and cologne and sweat.

“You wanna stay?” Zayn breaks the silence suddenly.

“I’d like that.”

So Harry stays. He climbs into Zayn’s bed naked and comfortable, lying on top of the sheets beside Zayn. A cool breeze filters through the room and they snuggle close to stay warm.

The two of them talk through the rest of the night and Zayn observes that this isn’t just a one night stand.

“I wasn’t planning on that.”

“No?”

“Uh-uh.” 

Harry climbs on top of Zayn then, straddles him and kisses down his chest.

“Can I tell you something, Zayn?”

“Anything.”

“I think you’re in love with me.”

Zayn snickers at that, but his face falls serious when he looks at Harry’s jade green eyes blinking back at him, head cocked to one side.

“You’re serious?”

“I saw you staring the other night. And now we’re here. Fine, maybe you think you aren’t now,” Harry says with a shrug when Zayn narrows his eyes at him and stares back like Harry is crazy, “but you are, or you will be.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Those eyes of yours are quite easy to read,” Harry observes and Zayn nods once, watches Harry ruffle his own hair and throw it back, his cheeks red with the heat and his skin shining with a gleam of sweat that never dissipated from when they’d been together before.

Zayn doesn’t forget Harry’s comments, keeps them in the back of his mind as they talk late into the night. The fan whirs and the sidewalks below buzz with energy, but there’s a calmness that surrounds the two of them, bodies close, fingers dancing with one another’s, words almost tangible on each other’s lips.

Zayn falls asleep eventually and Harry watches his eyes shut slowly, eyelashes creating a soft shadow on Zayn’s cheeks. Harry traces Zayn’s lips and whispers good night before he joins him in sleep.

~

Harry’s not in bed when Zayn wakes up the next morning. He’s slow to get up, stretching his limbs, the memories of last night creeping in little by little. Zayn’s mouth opens before his eyes do into a smile as he reminds himself of Harry lying next to him in bed, hands under his chin and legs kicked up like a little girl at a sleepover.

Before Zayn can climb out of bed, Harry’s kicking open his door with a plate of food in hand. “You’re up! I made you breakfast.”

Harry kisses Zayn on the mouth and Zayn rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “You’re a morning person? I’m not sure this is gonna work out…”

Harry laughs brightly and crosses his legs next to Zayn, watching as Zayn hums his approval through a mouthful of food. He mumbles a thank you and Harry kisses his cheek, stalking away to go get himself a drink.

They spend most of the day locked up in Zayn’s room. It’s too hot to go outside and they’re lazy and Zayn’s sure they would get disapproving looks their way constantly if they kissed in public the way they do in his room.

~

Harry ends up sleeping over Zayn’s a lot after that. They spend their days at work or together if they have off on the same days, but there’s not a night they don’t spend together. Zayn’s grown accustomed to seeing Harry in nothing but shirts that are too short for his lanky figure and underwear. Harry’s grown to almost expect the kisses on his shoulder and neck in the morning that eventually lead to his lips.

Zayn hates to admit it and he doesn’t just yet, but maybe Harry was right. Maybe Zayn decided from the first time he saw him that he loved him and maybe Harry’s openness only confirmed that for Zayn. Maybe it’s possible to love first and learn later.

And they do, they learn so much about each other every day. Harry learns that Zayn likes a smoke after sex and Harry decides that he likes to sit in Zayn’s lap to light it and mouth at his neck to his heart’s content while Zayn puffs clouds into the air. Zayn learns that Harry loves to experiment in the kitchen and likes to sing in the shower and he’s actually quite good. 

He walks in on Harry one day, popping his head in. “Can I join you?”

“It’s your shower,” Harry replies with a shrug and a cheeky smirk that dimples his cheek. “You can do whatever you’d like.”

Zayn strips off and steps in, wrapping himself around Harry and nuzzling into his neck. Zayn’s never wanted to be this gentle and sweet with someone one minute and then make them beg for him the next, but Harry just does something to Zayn, makes him want to ruin Harry just so he can take care of him after.

“Wanna go out tonight?” Harry says softly, distracting Zayn.

“Sure.”

They take too long in the shower, kiss under the pouring water and memorize tattoos with their lips. Even out of the shower, they can’t keep their hands off each other and it keeps them from getting ready. Zayn buttons Harry’s shirt for him and he swats Zayn’s hand away when he decides that three buttons are enough.

“For that, just go out shirtless.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“’Course I would, but I’d want you all to myself.”

“You do have me all to yourself, silly,” Harry laughs, pecking Zayn on the cheek from behind him.

~

They dance all night once they find a good enough club, drink the night away and focus their hazy eyes on each other. It’s sweaty and heavy and the music is pulsing and Zayn thinks he might have had too much and maybe Harry has, too, but he feels fine, just wants to dance.

Zayn pulls him off the dancefloor after a while, though, drags him to the bathroom because he needs a minute to cool off. Harry decides that it’s a good time to give Zayn head so they crash into an open stall and Harry drops to his knees on the dirty bathroom floor, ignores how hard it is against his knees and messily unzips Zayn’s jeans.

It’s sloppy and wet and so good and Zayn cums fast and hard, shooting white into Harry’s mouth. Some of it gets on his cheek and Zayn leans down to wipe it off his thumb. Harry sucks it off his finger and stands up, kissing Zayn’s waiting lips.

“You’re disgusting,” Zayn jokes, his lips catching on Harry’s.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” Harry slurs.

“I know.”

Zayn kisses Harry and leads him back outside, lets him dance on him and kiss him too much to be appropriate for a public place, but neither of them care. Harry likes the stares, enjoys the attention, and Zayn can’t be bothered to give a shit when Harry moves the way he does.

~

They stumble out together just a couple of hours before sunrise. Harry doesn’t want to go home just yet and neither does Zayn so they climb the gates to the park near Zayn’s apartment like a couple of sneaky kids and lie in the grass, side by side.

“You know what I don’t like about living in the city, Zaynie?”

“What’s that, Harry?”

“Can’t see the stars.”

Zayn rolls over to look at Harry. “Really?”

“Yeah, love. Bothers me.”

Zayn sits up and crawls on top of Harry, knees dug into the grass on either side of him. He swears right now that he’s in love with Harry. It could be the alcohol talking or it could be Harry’s pink lips and how his eyes narrow as he desperately looks for a star in the sky.

“I love you.”

Zayn just blurts it out, doesn’t think much of it. Harry stares blankly at him for a moment, but a smile slowly breaks across his face, his cheek dimpling and his perfect teeth gleaming.

“I told you.”

“You did.”

“I haven’t told you _that_ though.”

“What?”

“That I love you. I do, Zayn, I love you.”

Zayn leans down and rests his forehead against Harry’s. Harry holds Zayn’s face in his hands and lazily brushes his lips against his, lets it melt into something deeper, sharing tongues and teeth and breath.

It doesn’t faze either of them that it’s too soon. It just feels right when they say it, sounds like it would only work if they said it to one another. They’re too young to care anyway, too young to listen to anyone that might tell them it’s too soon for love. 

So they keep saying it all night, laughing and kissing under a sky with no stars, making out in a bed they now share. They’re Harry’s last words to Zayn before he falls asleep and Zayn mumbles them back, so jumbled and muffled it’s barely audible to Harry, but he knows anyway.

~

They haven’t stopped saying it to each other- they wake the other up with good morning kisses punctuated with whispered I love you’s and end the day breathing it against each other’s lips.

Zayn says it without really saying it. Harry knows it when he kisses him just in the corner of his mouth or when Zayn walks into the living room with two cups of tea and tells Harry he only remembers to put honey in it because he likes how it tastes on his lips.

Zayn’s apartment has kind of become their apartment. Harry buys food to keep there since Zayn rarely thinks to do so, makes the bed when Zayn’s too lazy to do it himself, and organizes their laundry so they can do it together at the laundromat down the block. 

They go late tonight, each of them carrying a bag. It’s empty considering the time and once they’ve loaded a couple of washers, they use each other to pass the time. Harry sets Zayn atop one of the dryers and Zayn hooks his legs around Harry’s waist. They kiss when they don’t talk and laugh against each other’s lips when they don’t kiss.

“Can you go anywhere without getting horny, Harry?” Zayn taunts him, dropping his head to Harry’s shoulder.

“Not with you.”

Zayn jumps off the dryer when one of the washing machines rings off, leaving Harry to wait. Harry bits his lips, rubs his hands over his thighs and takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He comes up behind Zayn and rests his chin on his shoulder while Zayn gathers the clothes to put in the dryer.

Harry gets the next load a few moments later and they have just another hour to spend kissing and giggling and touching like they shouldn’t in such a public place. To their surprise, another person comes in so they cool it, Harry clearing his throat to hide his laughter, his cheeks bright red.

Zayn just bows his head and avoids looking directly at Harry when he joins him to sit on top of the dryer. Their thighs brush together, but that’s the extent of their touching for the rest of the night until they get back. The two of them abandon the laundry bags and strip each other of their clothes. Zayn drops to his knees and tells Harry that he can’t wait to taste his cum in his mouth and the way Zayn says it alone makes Harry shiver.

Zayn tests Harry’s limits, takes it too slow. Harry practically begs for Zayn, clenches his fists and bites his lip when Zayn clicks his tongue at Harry. Harry can see it in Zayn’s eyes, the pleasure he gets from making Harry wait, from listening to Harry beg for more, for him.

Zayn gives in eventually and stands up, guiding Harry to the bed. Harry folds himself over it and Zayn smooths his fingers between Harry’s cheeks after squeezing some lube onto him, sliding in to get him ready. Harry begs some more, pleads with Zayn through gritted teeth.

Harry feels like he could cum already when Zayn pushes into him, so desperate and welcoming of the feeling. Zayn’s hand presses against Harry’s stomach, holds him tight as he fucks into him. Harry repositions himself after a moment, straightens up with his knees bent, his back to Zayn’s chest. He tilts his head back so he rests against Zayn’s shoulder for a moment, looking sideways at him.

“Fuck me, Zayn.”

And Zayn does, his arm wrapped around Harry to reach his cock so he can thumb over the tip, his fist wrapped around Harry to get him going. Harry melts under Zayn’s touch, wet, desperate moans escaping his lips. Zayn mouths at Harry’s neck, tells him how good he is. Harry tells Zayn he’s about to cum and his orgasm hits him hard, making it difficult for Harry to keep himself upright against Zayn. 

Harry’s cum spills over Zayn’s fingers and gets on his stomach, too. He feels tired, weak, but insists that Zayn keep going till he orgasms. 

“Want your mouth, Harry,” Zayn mumbles, reaching up to stroke Harry’s lip.

Harry obeys happily and slowly pulls off Zayn, dragging him onto the bed with him and pushing him down. He makes himself comfortable in between Zayn’s thighs and rids Zayn of his condom, his lips replacing it quickly. Harry bobs up and down, his fist following the movements of his mouth. Zayn props himself up with one arm and watches Harry, keeps his hand against the back of Harry’s head to force him down a little.

Tears build in Harry’s eyes when Zayn’s dick hits his throat, but he likes the feeling, likes looking up through his eyelashes and seeing Zayn’s lips parted, hearing his breath through his groans of Harry’s name. 

Zayn’s hips jerk and he thrusts into Harry’s mouth when he cums, Harry’s fist moving quickly up and down. Harry licks up every last bit, swallows with pride and Zayn pulls Harry up to him, reclines against the bed as Harry lowers himself onto Zayn, their mouths connecting sloppily.

~

Zayn and Harry fell asleep quickly after they’d cleaned themselves up. Zayn wakes up wrapped in Harry’s embrace and Harry shifts when he feels Zayn move. They decide that they’d rather spend the day like this then bother to move and that’s how most days are even after that.

The days turn to months and Harry sleeping over Zayn’s most nights turn into every night when they decide to move in together. Zayn’s apartment is small, even smaller now that it’s shared, but it’s comfortable and it’s filled with love and it’s home.

Harry gets Zayn to go out most weekends even though it tires him out quickly these days and Liam’s usually at the bar to tell them to turn down the PDA. They ignore him and Liam just smiles, passes them another round of drinks that they down after toasting to one another. 

Harry smiles over his glass, eyes playful, hips wiggling to the music that’s playing. He’s sweaty and hot and tired so after a little while he leans into Zayn and asks to go home. Zayn’s always happy to get away from noise and crowds and distractions and just lock himself away with Harry, so he leads the way, kissing Harry in the back of the cab they catch.

It takes them a minute to notice that they’ve arrived home and they snicker as they climb out of the car at the driver’s grumbled scolding, something about ‘you kids think you can mess around in the back of my cab.’

Zayn follows Harry up to their flat and Harry complains that he feels hot and gross so they strip off together and get in the shower. They’re tipsy and giggly and Zayn slips, but Harry catches him and they laugh into each other’s mouths, tasting alcohol-tinged breath and water.

“You taste like beer,” Harry says against Zayn’s mouth before he kisses at his neck.

“You taste like… whatever you had tonight.”

“Sangria,” Harry laughs. “S’good, innit? Fruity.”

Zayn smiles, hooks his arms around Harry’s waist and pulls him close. Harry’s cock touches Zayn’s, their thighs brush and their fingers slot together as Zayn pushes Harry against the shower wall. They grind their hips together and Zayn plants wet, open mouthed kisses to Harry’s neck and chest, sucking a love bite into his flesh.

Harry moans softly at the feeling, the sound caught in Zayn’s mouth when he comes back up to kiss Harry. Their lips move languidly together and under the alcohol they can taste something more, something that words aren’t meant to describe. It’s more of a feeling, really, an awareness that they belong to each other, that there’s not a set of lips in the world either of them would rather kiss, that Harry was right when he said Zayn was in love with him on the first night they met. They forget about towels when they get out, collapsing into bed naked and wet.

~

It’s one of the hottest nights of the summer according to the news and Harry and Zayn sit together on the roof of their building, drinking and soaking up the sun. Harry likes brewing recipes in the kitchen and considers himself the in-house bartender. Most of it’s too fruity for beer-drinking Zayn, but he drinks Harry’s little concoctions anyway.

Harry’s in little running shorts and a t-shirt and Zayn can’t stop looking at him. They stay up there till the sun goes down and a breeze cools the two of them. Harry snuggles with Zayn, his back to Zayn’s chest, and Zayn’s arm rests over Harry’s shoulder. 

“Still wish I could see the stars,” Harry says, breaking the comfortable silence as he stares up at the darkening sky.

“I can.”

“No, Zayn, it’s impossible-“

“I can,” Zayn interrupts him, tilting Harry’s head back so he looks into Zayn’s eyes. “I can see the stars,” Zayn starts again, pressing his thumbs gently over Harry’s eyes, one first then the other. “Right here.”

“You’re more of a hopeless romantic than you think,” Harry replies with a smile, leaning back so Zayn can kiss him.

“Only for you.”

Harry smiles warmly and hears rustling from behind him. He sits up to look and sees Zayn pull out a little brown box with a string wrapped around it, holding it in his hand.

“I made it myself, so open it carefully,” Zayn tells Harry, passing him the box.

Harry gazes at Zayn and then at his own hand when he feels the light weight of the box in his hand. “Zayn…”

“Open it.”

Harry listens, unties the little string from around the box and peels it open carefully like Zayn said. Inside is a ring, a simple little thing with a small diamond carved into it and the date they first met engraved on the inside of the silver metal.

“I love you, Harry. You’ve known that since we met, you told me that I loved you before I told you myself. So will you marry me?”

Harry looks at Zayn through tear-blurred eyes, taking him in at this moment, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he stares back at Harry with a soft smile, the memories and love and light that Harry can see in the golden brown of Zayn’s eyes.

“Yeah, Zaynie. Yeah, of course I’ll marry you.”

Harry kisses Zayn and it’s wet and happy and hard and Zayn smiles when Harry pulls away, slipping the ring onto his finger. Harry falls back against Zayn, laces their fingers together against his stomach. Harry tells Zayn that they’re going to get married somewhere they can see the stars at night and Zayn reminds Harry that he is the stars and they almost fuck right there on the roof, but have enough decency to take it downstairs to their apartment.

~

Harry starts to plan early, asks Zayn things like “what flowers do you want?” and “do we want a DJ or a band?” and Zayn doesn’t care about all those little details as much, just wants to kiss Harry in front of the people closest to them and promise forever to each other. Zayn tells Harry that and Harry kisses Zayn, thanking him for being no help and reminding him that he loves him anyway. 

From the way they act, it seems they’re already married, like they always have been. The days after feel like it’s their honeymoon, too much sex and too many I love you’s. Harry keeps saying “I can’t wait to marry you, Zaynie,” and Zayn always tells him “I can’t wait for the rest of our lives together.”

Harry tells Zayn that he’s going to have to learn to dance in front of people and Zayn says he does all the time when they go out. Harry clicks his tongue in response.

“People that are actually watching, Zayn.”

“What?”

“I’m talking about our first dance,” Harry spells it out for him as he shuts the fridge, dismissing dinner for a moment and turning to his phone to play some music.

“Oh, Harry,” Zayn whines, but he doesn’t mind at all when Harry sweeps him into his arms.

They twirl through the kitchen, Harry laughing when Zayn stumbles. Harry can feel Zayn’s shakiness and he tuts at him, shakes his head and kisses Zayn’s cheek.

“See? You’re nervous and it’s just the two of us.”

Zayn frowns, but can’t hold it for too long looking into Harry’s eyes. “Just the thought I guess,” Zayn shrugs.

They forget about everything around them; the food Harry left out, the music that doesn’t even really match their dancing. Harry laughs when he realizes he and Zayn are dancing to Fleetwood Mac.

“Don’t know how you listen to this all the time,” Zayn jokes, hugging Harry closer.

Harry mocks offense and takes a step back. “When you asked me to marry you, I took it you accepted this side of me.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face gives him away. “So dramatic,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, resting his forehead on Harry’s.

Harry gets back to fixing up dinner and they eat together in front of the TV. Harry decides he wants to dance some more so they abandon their plates and glasses and Zayn’s finger brushes over the ring on Harry’s finger and they dance till they feel like they could fall asleep standing in each other’s arms.

Zayn lets Harry nestle against him and they lace their fingers together. Zayn compares the different sizes, the bony lankiness of Harry’s against Zayn’s own. He twists the ring on Harry’s fourth finger, rubs over the stone gently.

Harry never takes off his ring, twirls it around his finger constantly to make sure it’s there. He spins it nervously on the way to a doctor’s appointment the next day. He hadn’t told Zayn because he didn’t want to worry him, but Harry’s been feeling tired lately, too tired and too frequently. And his body hurts, an ache in his bones he can’t explain, can’t pinpoint to a specific part. 

~

Harry gets a message a couple of days later after seeing his doctor to come in and see them again to talk in person. Harry swallows nervously and still doesn’t tell Zayn, but something is off and Zayn knows it.

“You ok, babe?”

“Yeah, Zaynie, just tired.”

“You’ve been tired a lot lately.”

“I know,” Harry replies, pulling Zayn to the couch with him. Zayn plays with Harry’s hair and plays off the feeling in his gut as just nerves.

~

Zayn’s nerves only get worse. Harry’s always been the type to get into random bursts of energy and then feel like being lazy just moments later, but lately he’s just tired, lacking that same energy. He looks different, he knows it, but he doesn’t face it- he won’t face his own ghostly reflection in the mirror.

Zayn tells him that he looks off, that he can see in Harry’s glassy eyes that something isn’t right, but Harry assures Zayn he’s ok, that it’s probably just a cold or something. Harry’s so pale, too, his skin stained with the blue of his veins that have become more apparent over a short time.

Harry feels weaker but won’t admit to himself that it could be worse than a cold and does everything in his power to keep Zayn from worrying, too. 

~

Harry comes home one day and doesn’t find Zayn. He needs to find Zayn and he doesn’t. He splashes water on his face because this can’t be real, but he finds it in himself to calm down a little when he finds a note.

_Come to the roof. Ordered in x_

Harry goes to the roof and sure enough Zayn’s there, already digging into a container of food. “Sorry, love,” he manages through a mouthful of food, “I was hungry.”

“S’okay, Zayn.”

“How was your day?” Zayn asks, pecking Harry’s cheek when Zayn sits next to him.

Harry just takes a deep breath, doesn’t even look at Zayn. Zayn notices then, how flushed his face is, how uneven and heavy his breathing is.

“Harry, what’s wrong?”

Harry doesn’t know how to explain running out of a doctor’s office, running and running and running till her got home. Harry doesn’t know how to tell Zayn anything right now, so he just blurts it out, doesn’t even look at him.

“I haven’t been feeling like myself the past few weeks.”

Zayn just stares at him, putting his container of food down and wiping at his mouth.

“I went to the doctor and I- I didn’t expect it to be anything, really, but something’s wrong.”

Zayn’s heart stops and he feels an eerie cold settle inside him. Harry can feel the shift between the two of them. Harry’s heart starts to race again and Zayn says nothing, just waits for Harry to go on. 

“I was fine. I’ve been fine this whole time.”

“Harry-“

“The tests they’ve done aren’t telling them exactly what’s wrong, but I’m sick, Zaynie. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything first, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sick.”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m- I don’t know how to tell you this, love,” Harry explains with tears in his eyes, ignoring them when they spill over, staining his reddened cheeks. Zayn just stares back at him and Harry takes Zayn’s hand, locks their fingers together and holds tight because he needs to feel something other than fear right now, needs to know that Zayn is there.

“What else did they say?” Zayn asks, his heart breaking piece by piece as he pulls Harry into his arms. 

“I don’t…” Harry pauses, gathering his breath, pulling back from Zayn to look at him head on. “I don’t have long, Zayn.”

The world keeps spinning, but Zayn’s shatters just as his heart does when he hears those words, when the love of his life says those words. Harry swallows back any sound his crying tries to force out, can’t be bothered to wipe at his eyes though. Zayn stays frozen and he wants to push Harry away, wants to wish he never met him, but how could he wish away the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

Zayn’s angry and scared and hurt because Harry’s being taken away. The stars are being taken away. Harry complained that he couldn’t see the stars, but Zayn could, Zayn held them in his arms every night and all he can think is that soon, he won’t.

~

The sun goes down and is replaced by an inky black sky, the city seems to come to life around them, but they stay on the roof. Harry finally stopped crying and Zayn only just now speaks.

“What are you gonna do Harry?”

Harry sighs, wipes at his face. “I dunno, Zayn, what am I supposed to do?”

“How many times have you gone to the doctor?”

“Today was the third time.”

“I have a low blood cell count… my body’s fighting Zayn, I’m fighting,” Harry says sadly, his voice breaking, “but they said any treatments that are open to me will just delay this.”

Zayn shakes his head, stands up finally, ignoring how heavy his legs feel. Harry follows suit and just looks at Zayn helplessly.

“Please don’t look at me any differently. I don’t want you to feel… bad for me or angry or something, I just want you to be with me.”

All it takes are those words for Zayn to lose it then, the composure he’s kept since earlier that evening. He breaks down then, feels his legs weaken. He doesn’t even want to touch Harry, but all he wants is to touch Harry. They latch onto each other like two magnets, a force that happens whether they want it to or not. They lean on each other in the elevator and don’t let go when they get through their apartment door.

They curl up on the couch with all their clothes on and just sit like that for a while. Harry traces the tattoos on Zayn’s arms and Zayn touches Harry’s ring every so often.

“Zayn?”

“Yeah, my love?”  


“I know you must be mad that I didn’t tell you, but please don’t be. And don’t be sad about this, it’s out of our control.”

“Aren’t you angry, Harry? Aren’t you sad?” Zayn retorts, shaking his head sadly.

“’Course I am, Zaynie, but I still don’t want you to be.”

Zayn can’t be mad around Harry let alone at him, he’s tried before, but it’s practically impossible. Zayn relaxes now though, lets Harry’s touch calm him. They calm each other, soak in each other’s warmth and fall asleep on the couch.

~

Zayn and Harry manage to go back to the way things were after a few days. Zayn constantly asks Harry how he’s feeling and it bothers Harry, but he understands. He just feels sore, tired, like his body is too much to carry, but it’s bearable. 

In the middle of their usual weekly dinner on the roof, Harry loses it. Zayn’s walking over with some drinks in hand and almost drops them when he hears Harry scream. He runs to him, disregards the bottles and ignores it when one does end up cracked on the floor.

Harry’s crumpled on the floor by the time Zayn finds him, screaming into his hands, the sound so horrible Zayn almost covers his ears.

“Harry, please, just take a breath,” Zayn pleads with him, grabs Harry’s hands and wraps them in his own.

“I don’t want to die, Zayn.”

Zayn doesn’t know what to say to that, to Harry’s red rimmed, tired eyes. Zayn just holds him, rocks him back and forth while Harry cries till his stomach hurts. Harry sits up a little straighter after a while, inhales a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize-“

“I have to. I’m sorry, I just- it finally hit me, I guess.”

Zayn’s lip quivers and he’s sure Harry can hear how thick his voice gets as he tries to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry, love.”

“I need you tonight, babe.”

“What do you mean?” Zayn sniffs.

Harry answers with a kiss. His lips part against Zayn’s and they lick into each other’s mouths, noses bumping and breaths shared between the two of them.

~

They crash through their apartment minutes later, Harry desperately clawing at Zayn’s clothes. They kiss so roughly, so intensely that it’s almost violent, their hunger for each other controlling the both of them.

Harry drops to Zayn’s neck and mouths at his flesh, holds his hips tight enough that Harry’s fingertips might imprint into Zayn’s skin. Zayn can feel the urgency in Harry’s touch, in how he pleads his name and suddenly everything overwhelms Zayn. Harry reaches for Zayn’s shirt and Zayn stops suddenly, grabs Harry’s hand to stop him from going any further.

“Haz…” Zayn whispers to Harry with a hand on his chest. “I can’t.”

“What’s wrong, Zayn?”

“I can’t do this, Harry, I-“

“What are you talking about?”

“ _This_ , Harry,” Zayn says, gesturing between the two of them. “I mean you just- you broke down up there and barely say anything about it and I can’t just pretend that everything’s ok like that, Haz, I can’t.”

“I didn’t say anything because I can’t Zayn, I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s not just now, since you told me about this all you’ve wanted is to pretend it’s not happening but it is and I’m scared and I know you are, too, but you won’t… you won’t even try to help yourself,” Zayn almost screams.

Harry scoffs at him, stalks away, but Zayn follows. “And what am I supposed to do to ‘help’ myself, Zayn, go through hell just to put it off?!”

“What if it works? You don’t-“

“I don’t want to be even more sick and in pain if I… if this is it for me,” Harry says quietly, the tension in his body obvious from the way he clenches his fists. 

Harry leans out the window, looks over the fire escape at the city. Zayn joins him, laces their fingers together and turns so he can look at Harry. Zayn tries not to notice how tired Harry’s eyes are, how muted the green of his irises has become.

“You can talk about this, Harry,” Zayn says against his neck.

He finally does. Harry spills everything, explains what the doctor’s said more clearly. He tells Zayn that his white blood cell count is low and the doctors have tried multiple tests and can’t pin down what the cause is. Harry tells Zayn that he thought he just wasn’t getting enough sleep and that’s why he’s been so tired so he didn’t expect to hear anything serious when he went to the doctor, just wanted to confirm that he could use some bed rest. 

He tells Zayn how scared he is and Zayn tells Harry that’s he’s scared, too. Zayn kisses Harry’s tender skin, holds him tight.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmurs, his voice throaty and raspy from crying, from screaming.

“For what?”

“For finding you, for you falling in love with me.”

“Oh shut it, Harry, stop trying to be poetic,” Zayn grumbles, rolling his eyes. “I fell in love with you, you didn’t make me. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Harry smirks at that and fixes himself on the couch so he can lie down with his head in Zayn’s lap. Zayn takes his cue to comb his fingers through Harry’s hair and he almost cries looking at him- at Harry’s eyes, so dull and exhausted, his dry lips that stay parted as he tries to catch his breath.

Harry falls asleep with his head resting on Zayn’s thighs and Zayn just watches him sleep. He can’t fall asleep himself, not when all he can think about is a world without this, a world without Harry. When he does eventually, it’s only because Harry stirs and mumbles for Zayn to get some rest and with Harry’s permission, he finally lets himself sleep.

~

Zayn insists that he go with Harry to his next doctor’s appointment a few days later. Harry doesn’t want to, but Zayn’s persistence is relentless. He tells Harry he’s not taking no for an answer and Harry even smiles at that.

So they sit side by side while different options are thrown at them, all of which the doctor sadly explains will just delay the illness if anything.

Harry argues with Zayn when the doctor gives them some time alone. They go back and forth, Zayn insisting that maybe the doctors are wrong, maybe he can heal. Zayn gets so angry with Harry that he almost cries, has to force himself not to shout. The doctor comes back in and the two of them turn away from each other, silence draping over them.

“You’re sure that it’s… incurable?”

“Yes. It’s progressed too quickly. I can prescribe something that will at least lessen some of the pain, but everything else will just slow it down at the most.”

Harry glares at Zayn and Zayn can feel Harry’s burning gaze. Neither of them speaks for a moment until Harry stands up.

“I’ll take that medication.”

~

Zayn’s numb after the appointment. Harry’s hand lingers near his and they’re both still angry, Harry’s practically fuming. That doesn’t stop Zayn from reaching out for Harry, his fingertips skimming Harry’s before they lace together.

The tension that built in Harry’s shoulder eases a little and he sighs, giving Zayn’s hand a squeeze. They don’t need words to say anything, they both know they’re not really mad at each other, it’s so hard for them to ever be angry at the other. 

They kiss apologies into each other’s neck in bed later, press their lips to inked and naked skin. They only stop when Harry remembers he has to take his first dose. Zayn finds Harry in the kitchen when he doesn’t come back quickly enough, staring at the little tablet in his palm, a glass of water in the other. 

“This isn’t going to fix me,” Harry says quietly, his voice too low for Zayn to really hear the soft break in it.

“Just take it, Harry,” Zayn tries to be stern and gentle at the same time and Harry downs it. “Now come on back to bed,” Zayn mewls against Harry’s shoulder, “you left me hanging back there.”

Harry manages a smile and turns around so he and Zayn are face to face. They stumble back to bed together and forget about everything for a little while.

~

Harry used to talk constantly about Zayn meeting his family back home. Zayn brings it up himself one day and dances around his real question for a bit. He sighs before he asks, rubs his hand over the back of his neck.

“Have you told them yet?”

Harry’s face falls and he shakes his head solemnly. 

“Babe, you- you can’t wait to tell them something like this,” Zayn offers gently and Harry nods, wipes his hands over his face.

“You’re right.”

“So why don’t we go down for a weekend, yeah?”

“That’s horrible Zayn… I don’t want them to meet the best thing in my life and find out about the worst all at once.”

Zayn half smiles at that and wraps his arms around Harry from behind, kissing his shoulder. “It’ll be hard, but you’ve got to, Haz.”

“I know.”

“Call your mum. See if we can go this weekend.”

Harry calls and his mother scolds him for even asking. “Can I bring a guest then, mum? ‘Cause I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.”

“And whose that?” her voice rings out like a bird over the phone, soft and bright.

Harry holds out the phone and nods at Zayn so he clears his throat and swallows nervously. “Zayn. I’m Zayn.”

“Well then I’ll see you both this weekend!” she says happily and Harry smiles at the sound of her voice, at how tightly Zayn squeezes his hand.

“See you this weekend mum.”

~

Packing turns into making out on the floor against the bed for hours the next day. It’s easy for Zayn to get distracted by Harry’s rose petal lips, especially when he’s sucking a hickey into Zayn’s neck. They slow down though and finish gathering their things for their weekend away.

It rolls around quickly and Harry starts the day excited, bouncing around like a child.

“I’m just excited for you to meet them, is all,” Harry pouts, his cheek dimpling when Zayn gives his bottom a smack.

“I’m just teasing ya.”

Harry’s excitement drains quickly and by the time the two of them are on the tube, Harry’s asleep leaning on Zayn’s shoulder. A couple of transfers and a car ride later, they’re walking hand in hand up the walkway to Harry’s old home.

He drops his bags on the floor upon arriving and calls out for his mother, his lips breaking into a grin when she pops out of the kitchen.

“Hello, love,” she says softly, pulling Harry into a hug. “You look ill,” she observes when she pulls away, tapping his cheek.

Harry avoids it for the moment and distracts her with Zayn.

“I’m Anne. It’s lovely to meet you. Harry sent me a right paragraph the other day about you,” she says with a smile and Harry’s cheeks flush red while Zayn giggles next to him.

Zayn likes her already. It’s hard not to when she’s cooked a good meal for them, opened up her home to Zayn and is so sweet, as charming as Harry is. She leaves them for a bit to freshen up and lets them know Gemma will be around tomorrow.

“Harry,” Zayn starts as soon as Anne’s out of earshot, “please don’t drag this out.”

“It’s so hard,” he argues, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. “I don’t know how to tell her. I don’t want to see her upset, Zayn.”

She comes down then and Harry startles. He stands up quickly, hands shaking with the nerves that overcome him. He pulls her aside and Zayn waits anxiously. He barely hears a few pleaded no’s and an apology from Harry, like it’s his fault.

They don’t leave the kitchen for hours. Zayn pokes his head in when he feels himself getting tired and his heart breaks for Anne when he sees her. They look up at the same time and Zayn’s stuck by their similarities, the crystal clear colors of their eyes.

“I’m just going to head off to bed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I kept him, love.”

Zayn smiles and shakes his head at her. “S’okay.”

She lets Harry go and Zayn can see the redness on Harry’s hand where she held him. Harry kisses her good night and she tells him and Zayn to behave to which they both laugh and Harry whispers “no promises.”

~

Telling Gemma is just as hard the next day. She gets sick and Anne holds her hair back while Harry watches guiltily. Zayn rubs Harry’s shoulder, squeezes to let him know he’s there.

The three of them talk for hours and Zayn holds Harry’s hand through it all, squeezes tighter when Harry’s voice breaks. He won’t let himself cry though, not in front of his mum and sister. When it’s over nobody knows what to say and Gemma clears her throat, looks straight at Zayn.

“Mum tells me you two are engaged,” she says softly, wiping at her eyes and looking back and forth between Zayn and Harry.

Zayn knows she’s distracting herself and her mum. She’s doing what Zayn does and using the exact same topic. Zayn nods and smiles at Harry and the rest of the day is spent talking about wedding dances and decorations and cakes.

Harry finds it hard to leave the next day and Anne finds it hard to let him go. She tells Zayn to take care of him and then shakes her head, apologizing and adding that she knows Zayn does already. Zayn thanks Anne over and over and Harry smiles when she hugs him tight and passes him to Gemma for her to do the same.

~

Harry’s time becomes split between good days and bad days. Some days he just doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to face the world. Zayn’s always there and that brings Harry back, keeps his head in a good place. Harry’s able to talk to his mum and sister about it now and that helps him, makes him smile just so hear their voices. 

Harry ends his phone calls with apologies that Zayn’s sure Anne scolds him for. He does the same thing to Zayn and Zayn hates that Harry apologizes for his bad times.

“We’re engaged Harry. Don’t you know what they say at weddings?” he teases, pulling Harry to his lap.

“Tell me.”

“Through sickness and health. Through… I dunno, through the good the bad and the ugly,” Zayn shrugs and Harry cracks up, laughing into Zayn’s neck.

Zayn falls in love with Harry all over again when he hears that sound, so bright and abrupt. Harry’s eyes sparkle when he laughs from his belly, really laughs. Zayn kisses him, licks into his mouth till the smile fades from Harry’s lips and melts into the kiss.

Harry waits till Zayn’s asleep later and climbs out of bed, wincing when he stretches his sore bones. He finds a piece of paper and pen and scribbles a little note, rummaging through one of his drawers till he finds his little brown box. He sticks the note inside and reties the little string around it.

Zayn rolls over when Harry joins him back in bed. “Where’d ya go?”

“Just opening the window,” Harry lies, “got a little warm.”

~

Harry makes sure he takes advantage of his better days. He convinces Zayn to go out with him sometimes. They go to the aquarium, shop and try on ridiculous clothes, eat dessert before dinner most of the time. 

Other good days they stay in like the homebodies they are at heart. They cook together and drink till everything is funny and leave late night trash television on while they lose each other in kisses that let each of them know they have no idea what they would do without the other.

~

Harry gets worse too fast. Zayn hates to see him like this, but he takes care of him, stays with him when Harry just needs some extra body heat. The physical changes in Harry have become more obvious. His eyes are glassy and missing that old sparkle, his movements are tired, like it takes too much strength to do simple things, and his weight loss is exaggerated on his already slim figure.

They sit at their little spot in the park a lot, bring food and drinks and laugh like they always have at nothing and everything. Harry kisses Zayn as much as he can, kisses him good morning- good afternoon on later days- and good night, kisses him to thank him, to say he loves him, to say everything will be alright.

The two of them are making dinner together, hips bumping as they move back and forth between the counter and the stove. Harry’s had a better day today than the last few and Zayn can’t stop kissing and touching him, not that he ever could anyway.

“Hey, Haz?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Have you thought about what you want our song to be? Like for our first dance?”

Harry stills at the question because even though he’s told Zayn to not treat him differently, he can’t help but think that he may not even reach that time. They’ve talked about that, about getting married sooner, but Harry told Zayn that he didn’t want to. Zayn was adamant on convincing Harry for days, but Harry admitted that he didn’t want Zayn to be widowed.

Zayn had no idea what to say, he never does really, not when they talk about that. But Harry shrugs it off, just focuses on the image of him and Zayn done up all nice dancing in the middle of the people they love.

“I have… haven’t been able to choose one though. Why?”

Harry turns around and leans against the counter, smiling when Zayn pins him against the surface with his hips.

“I think I found one.”

~

They eat on the rooftop that night. Zayn shows Harry the song after dinner and they dance under the setting sun. Harry buries his face in Zayn’s neck, his posture awkward, but he does it to hide his face. He doesn’t want Zayn to worry, to see him cry, and he hopes that the tears he sheds don’t soak through Zayn’s shirt.

Zayn knows, he can feel Harry’s body shake with the crying, and he feels the tears on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t break the moment. Zayn just twirls with Harry till the song ends and even then they don’t let go of each other.

“What do you think?” Zayn prompts Harry.

Harry looks up all teary-eyed and smiley and rests his forehead against Zayn’s. “That’s the one.”

~

Harry stays with Zayn up on the roof till clouds cover the sky the way they seem to have covered their lives. Zayn leans against Harry which is new- Harry always likes to be the little spoon- but he just wants to hold Zayn, memorize the weight of him on his body.

They cuddle up when the breeze grows stronger and eventually decide to go inside. Harry’s tired, so, so tired, but he forces himself to stay up with Zayn. They talk in whispers, kiss and kiss and kiss till their lips feel sore from puckering so much.

Zayn starts to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning when the moon is still shining. Harry feels Zayn settle into the mattress, curl up close like Harry is his security and he is. They’re each other’s safe place, sources of warmth and light and love.

Harry silently thanks Zayn for being that for him, for letting Harry find home in another person. Harry traces Zayn’s lips and his mouth twitches at the soft sensation and Harry stifles a giggle.

“Can I tell you something?” Harry whispers against Zayn’s lips, their foreheads barely touching.

Zayn nods once, doesn’t say a word.

“You’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Harry cuddles closer and Zayn mutters back an ‘I love you’ and the two of them fall asleep.

~

All the stars are ripped from the sky the next morning when Zayn wakes up. It’s all a blur from when he shakes Harry, pleading with him to wake up, wake up, wake up, to when he sits in the ambulance with his head in his hands.

The doctor tells Zayn that Harry probably went very peacefully, but it doesn’t matter to him, not right now. Anne and Gemma cling to each other and Zayn can’t look at them, can’t listen to them ask themselves why. He runs out of the hospital, doesn’t stop running till he gets to his apartment just like Harry did that day. He doesn’t bother with the elevator, choosing instead to run up the stairs, running, running, running till he reaches the roof.

And he screams. Zayn screams a horrible, primal sound that rips through his throat like a raging storm. His fingernails dig into his palms, leaving little red crescents in their wake. He wants to hit something, wants someone to feel the same hurt he does right now.

He keeps screaming and it only hurts more when he thinks of the only person who could calm him down not being here to do so.

~

Zayn doesn’t know when he stopped screaming. He doesn’t know when he stopped crying. He feels like if he takes a step, he’ll crush a piece of his hurt into smaller fragments. Zayn looks up and notices it’s dark and figures he must have been up here for hours. There are no stars in the sky and for the first time, Zayn feels exactly what Harry meant when he said he couldn’t see them.

~

It feels like Zayn sleeps for days. He stays in bed in between helping with funeral arrangements and hates it because it’s so empty without Harry. He switches to the couch and it feels too big when he doesn’t have to squeeze next to someone else. Harry’s everywhere; in the sheets that still smell like him, the extra pillows Zayn thought the couch didn’t need. Zayn rests his head on one Harry was particularly fond of and cries. He cries till his throat aches and his eyes burn.

~

The next week is just another blur. Zayn’s kind of glad that it is, he’d rather not remember all of this. He’s spent more time with Harry’s family and decided to accept their invitation to spend the night there before Harry’s service. 

Anne knocks on Harry’s old bedroom door and walks up to Zayn, helps him straighten his tie and dusts off his shoulders.

“I almost forgot to give you this,” she says, reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out Harry’s engagement ring.

“Oh,” Zayn breathes, his heart skipping. “Thank you.”

~

Zayn didn’t think he could hurt any worse, but having to say goodbye this way was more painful than he imagined. Zayn stood with Anne and Gemma, his jaw stiff and his gaze at the ground unwavering till Anne reached around Gemma and held them both. Gemma locked her hand with Zayn’s and he finally broke, tears flowing like steady rain.

He bade them goodbye, promised to visit soon. Letting go of them was hard, but he reassured himself that he’d see them again soon.

He takes a late train back home, most of the seats empty. He stretches out on one and for the first time since their last night together, he listens to the song they planned on dancing to at their wedding. Zayn licks his lips when he feels the saltiness dripping down his cheek. He stares out the window, wishes over and over again that he and Harry could have had forever.

His breath catches in his throat when his gaze drifts upwards. He’s never seen such a clear sky since he moved to the city. But out here on some train track outside of the suburbs, the stars have never looked so clear.

~

Zayn walks into his flat a few hours later and lets himself cry. Sobs rack his body as he collapses against the door, slides down till he hits the ground beneath him. He pulls out the ring, smooths over it and twists it between his thumb and forefinger. 

He stands up when he can muster the energy and stalks to his bedroom, sighing and taking a moment to lean against the doorframe, take in this view, this terrible, empty view.

Zayn digs through one of the dresser drawers, searching for the little box he’d given Harry that day. He finds it and sits down on his bed, untying the string around it and carefully popping it open. A confused expression crosses Zayn’s features when he notices the folded piece of paper inside. It’s torn on the edges, clearly ripped from a bigger sheet. He unfolds it gently and his jaw drops when he reads the words in Harry’s scrawled handwriting.

Zayn folds the little note back up and closes it inside the box, replacing the string around it. He changes his mind about putting the ring away and instead takes a chain off from around his neck, looping it through the ring. He falls asleep in his suit, easier than he has since Harry passed, holding the ring between his fingers.

_“Through sickness and health. Through the good the bad and the ugly. I’ll always see the stars with you, Zaynie. I love you.” ___


End file.
